Black as the pupil of an eye, sucking at light
like the pupil of an eye, I love you, far-sighted night.
Give me the voice to sing of you, godmother of every hymn,
you in whose hand lie the bridles of the four winds.
Calling on you, extolling you, I am no more than
a shell where the sea-swell goes on roaring.
Night! I have looked long enough into human eyes.
Now, emblaze me, make ash of me, black-sun-night!
Черная, как зрачок, как зрачок, сосущая
Свет — люблю тебя, зоркая ночь.
Голосу дай мне воспеть тебя, о праматерь
Песен, в чьей длани узда четырех ветров.
Клича тебя, славословя тебя, я только
Раковина, где еще не умолк океан.
Ночь! Я уже нагляделась в зрачки человека!
Испепели меня, черное солнце — ночь!
«Pray before sleep, / That you don’t wake up famous.»
«...And I simply wouldn’t come near it, / Renouncing all earthly goods. / “This place’s” guardian spirit / Became a snag in the woods. In this life, we are all merely guests, / Life, itself, is a habit, no doubt. / I can hear, in the aerial jets, / Two voices conversing aloud. O...»
«On hearing thunder, you’ll recall my face, / You’ll think: She wished for storms and lightning... / The skyline of hard-crimson will be widening, / The heart will be, as it was then, — ablaze. / It’ll happen on some Moscow day like this, / I’ll leave this city far behind for good...»
«Confusion I The burning light was stifling, / His glances – like the rays. / I only shuddered slightly: / This one can tame my ways. / He’ll lean in, speaking, brazen… / I’m pale, out of fright. / Let love become the gravestone / That lies upon my life.»